A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I updated. But it happens every year. Every. Single. Stinking. Year. I get sick on either Christmas Eve, Christmas day, or the day after. I also had to work all three of those days. But I'm back now :). Hope everyone had a good holiday, whatever you celebrate and wherever you are.

"Sammy?"

"Jim, what the hell is this?" John growled.

"He" Jim said, placing an arm around Sam's shoulder, "is your son, in case you've forgotten, John."

"Could've fooled me." John said bitterly.

Sam scowled, but Jim squeezed his shoulder and replied, "John, I know you're not happy about this. Sam, you either. But here's the thing. I don't care. You two need to work this out and you're going to."

"Sammy, it's good to see you." Dean tried, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of the very stiff Sam.

"It's Sam." Sam replied. "And this was a good thought, pastor Jim, but it's clear they don't want to see me."

"Sam, that's not true." Dean tried again.

"We'll head out." John said.

"See, I told you." Sam said. "They don't want to see me."

"Sam, do you trust me?" Jim asked. Sam nodded, and Jim said, "Okay, John. Go ahead. Leave."

Since Sam or Dean hadn't brought their duffel bags in the night before, the journey to the car was a short one. John barked for Dean from the front door, and Dean looked longingly at Sam one more time. Sam had a barely concealed look of hurt on his face, but pastor Jim just seemed smug. Sam expected to hear the rumbling of the Impala's engine, but instead all he heard was a persistent sputter.

"What is…?"

"Just trust me, Sam." pastor Jim assured him. "Go on and set your things down in your room. Dinner should be ready in a couple hours if you want to go lay down."

"You sure you don't need any help?"

"Dean will be the one helping me. You just drove a day and a half to get here after working for a week straight. You are getting some rest." pastor Jim said.

Sam smiled. "You sound like Dad sometimes."

"No. If I was your Dad, I would order you to bed and make you sleep. I'm asking. Please. I don't care if you go to sleep, since it's getting close to dinnertime anyway. Just go lay down and I'll come get you when dinner's ready."

Sam nodded. "Thanks."

"Go on. I'm sure your dad'll have some things to say to me right now."

"What did you do to the car?" Sam asked. "I'd be more worried about Dean than Dad."

"Nothing that can't be fixed quickly." Jim assured Sam. "Now go. Now."

Sam chuckled. "Yes, sir."

Sam headed back towards the bedroom, passing by John and Dean and not saying anything to either of them. Dean was torn. He wanted to go with Sam and grill him with questions about his life at Stanford. Did he like his school? Was he happy? Was there any chance he'd ever want to come home? But he didn't want to go after Sam right that second and chance angering his already frustrated father.

"Why exactly can't we leave?"

"Because your son is here and you're going to visit with him." Jim said.

"And if we don't?"

"Then I don't tell you how to fix the Impala." Jim replied.

"I can figure it out in no time." John said. "I can fix it myself."

"Good luck with that." Jim said.

"Damn it, Jim, you can't force me to stay here with Sam if I don't want to."

"But you want to, so I'm not forcing you." Jim reasoned. "I also stopped my newspaper delivery for three days, and told Caleb and Bobby not to call you with any potential hunts."

Jim didn't think it was possible, but John scowled even deeper. "Well what if I hotwire your car and just leave the Impala?"

"Then all your questions and doubts about God will be answered in under a minute because you'll meet him in person." Jim said seriously. "You seem to forget-you don't intimidate me, John. So, save your energy and stop trying."

"Fine. I'll go talk to Sam."

"You will not. That boy's been working every day for two weeks to be able to be here for Christmas. He just drove a day and a half by himself to get here. He's resting right now, just like you two did last night. You can see and talk to him at dinner." Jim said.

"You set this whole thing up, and now that I'm giving in and doing what you want, you're telling me I can't go talk to Sam?"

"You're not planning to talk to him. You're planning to blast him, again, for leaving you and Dean. You're planning to try and get him to convince me that you two have already made up so you can leave. Not happening. Now, leave Sam alone for the next two hours and you can see him at dinner. Dean, you've been staring in the direction of the bedroom ever since your father and I started talking. Why don't you go up there and talk to him?"

"Why does Dean get to talk to him and I don't?" John asked, bewildered.

"Because Dean will actually talk and not try to make Sam feel guilty." Jim said. "Now, John, help me with dinner."

"I can go get it…"

"A real dinner. Wash your hands." Jim said, pointing to the kitchen sink. "Dean, it's alright. Go. Knock on the door first. Sam may be sleeping."

Dean nodded. "Thanks."

Dean's stomach was in knots the entire time. He remembered all too well the last time the three Winchesters had been together. Sam angrily shoving things in a bag, Dad screaming at Sam about leaving the family, Sam screaming back at Dad that it wasn't a family, because a family supports each other through thick and thin no matter what. That they don't kick someone out for following their dreams, they celebrate it. Dad finally stopping himself from screaming, lowering his voice until it was just audible in the room.

"You walk out that door, Sam, don't you ever come back."

Even though Dean was only twenty-three, he could say with absolute certainty that his biggest regret in life was not stepping in at that point. Sam wanted him to, Dean could tell. He pleaded with Dean with those big puppy dog eyes that could make God himself bend to Sam's will, begged Dean to say something, anything, to stop their father's cruel ultimatum. But Dean didn't say anything. He was too stunned. Sam was leaving, Dad was pushing him out, and there was nothing Dean could do about it. Sam had waited a full fifteen seconds, grasping onto the hope that at least Dean was happy for him and could accept this. But when he was met with silence, a crushed and hurt Sam had picked up his duffel bag, pushed past John and Dean, and walked to the door. His parting words had haunted Dean every day since.

"Dean, you're twenty-two. You deserve to do what you want with your life, and so do I. Please, try your best to make it to thirty. That's all I want, and I hope you understand that one day."

Dean did get it. He wanted that himself. He wanted the whole white picket fence, kids, a wife, a family. But he had given up that dream years earlier. It only ended in heartbreak and pain for everyone involved. But Sam was a dreamer. He believed good things were possible to have if you just tried to get them for yourself. Dean didn't dare be that optimistic. But if Sam could get them for himself, if Sam could be happy, then he was more than willing to let him have it. Dean reached the bedroom door and knocked quietly, three times, hoping both that Sam was awake and that Sam was asleep.

"Come in."

Dean walked in to find Sam sitting on the bed taking off his shoes and socks. Clearly Sam hadn't expected it to be Dean at the door, because he paused and stared at Dean as if he couldn't believe Dean was there. Dean didn't blame him. He was doing the same. He'd been certain when Sam walked out the door that it would be the last time he'd see Sam again.

"Hey." Dean said awkwardly.

"Hey." Sam answered, continuing to pull his shoes and socks off. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean? I came to see you."

"I figured you'd stay with Dad." Sam said. "Just like last time."

"Come on, Sam, that's not fair and you know it."

"No, actually, I don't know it. You did stay with Dad, so how exactly is it not fair?" Sam asked.

"Someone had to. Do you want Dad to hunt alone?"

"Dad never really gave much of a damn about what I wanted, so what difference does it make?" Sam asked, turning to lay down on the bed.

"Damn it, Sam, I don't want to fight with you!" Dean asked. "I came to see how you were."

"Right on time. It only took a year and a half."

Dean started to say something back, then stopped himself. Sam could argue until he was out of breath. He'd learned long ago the way to stop an argument with Sam was to concede his point when he had one.

"You're right. I should've called you. I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Sam said.

"So, how's life at Stanford?"

"Dean, I don't really want to talk." Sam said.

Dean frowned. "Okay. I'll leave you alone."

"Dean, wait." Sam said. Dean turned around and Sam explained, "I don't mean I don't want to talk ever. I'm just tired. I've been up for three days with only a couple hours sleep and I just want to take a nap. After dinner, I promise. Deal?"

Dean smiled. "Deal."

"It's good to see you too, Dean." Sam said. "Will you do something for me? Please?"

"What?"

"I get that you don't want Dad to be alone. I really do. I don't want him to be alone either. But…" Sam swallowed, the emotion thick in his throat.

"But what, Sam?"

"I don't want to be alone either." Sam said. "I miss you, dude. But I was afraid to call you because I didn't know how you felt. So please, stay with Dad if you want, but don't let him cut you off from me."

Dean sighed. "I'm sorry. I thought you didn't call because you hated me."

"I thought you hated me." Sam said.

"How about a truce?" Dean said. "No one hates anyone. I'll call you, you call me."

"Thanks, Dean. Just remember, though, I work a lot and go to class a lot. If I don't pick up, I'm not ignoring you."

"Same goes for me. If I'm on a hunt, I might not be able to pick up. But if I can, I promise I will." Dean pointed at the bed. "Get some sleep. I'll wake you up when dinner's ready."

"Dean? You think it'll be this easy to make up with Dad?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know. But I'll help you as much as I can."

"Thanks."

Dean went to the kitchen, where John was unwillingly helping Jim with dinner. "Can I help?"

"Yes, Dean. Thank you. Here, peel these."

"This seems like a big fancy dinner for you." Dean remarked. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but is there a reason for it?"

"Two, actually." Jim responded. "One, it's Christmas. Two, the three of you have had nothing but college food and diner food for months now. I'm doing it because I care about you."

"Yeah, so much you're holding us hostage." John said bitterly.

"That is exactly right, my friend." Jim said with a smile that amused Dean and infuriated John. "Dean, get to peeling."

Dinner was on the table and ready an hour later. Dean woke up Sam, who happily ate with the three of them, ignoring John's glares at him. He'd decided before going to sleep that he was going to approach his father differently from before. He wouldn't bait John at all, and would answer any questions as respectfully as possible. Sam regretted the fight, but was sure that if he apologized his father would mistake it for Sam admitting he was wrong about going to school and leaving the 'family business'. So Sam answered questions from both Dean and pastor Jim. Questions about his job at the campus bookstore, his friends, his classes, and finally, the one question that did get a response out of John.

"You have a girlfriend?"

Sam grinned, the first time he'd really smiled since he'd gotten to Jim's. "I do."

"Dude! Good goin'!" Dean said, clapping Sam on the back.

"Thanks, man." Sam said.

"I'm glad you found someone, Sam. Truly." Jim said. "So what's she like?"

"She's…." Sam sighed and looked at the opposite wall as he thought about what to say. "She's smart, and funny, and caring, and sweet, and amazing, and everything I just said hardly seems like enough to describe her."

"You'll have to bring her here to meet us."

"Absolutely not." John said.

Sam, startled at being addressed for the first time since arriving at the house, asked, "What?"

"I said absolutely not. If you care about this girl, really care about her, you'll stay away from her."

Sam immediately forgot his promise to himself to not start an argument with John. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means if you continue to see her, you're going to get her killed."

"John…" Jim said with a warning in his tone.

"No, Jim. You forced us to get together to talk so we're gonna talk." John snapped. He turned back to Sam and ordered, "You need to leave this girl, son."

"Don't call me that." Sam said. "Don't ever call me that again."

"Watch your tone, boy." John growled. "I'm still your father."

"No, you're not. You lost your right to be my father when you told me I wasn't your son anymore."

"Excuse me?" Jim asked. "When did that happen?"

"Oh, he didn't tell you about that, did he?" Sam said. "He said it the night I left for Stanford. That if I left, I wasn't his son anymore."

"John? Is that true?" Jim asked.

"Yes." John admitted. "Yes, it's true."

"You stubborn, stupid, asinine jackass."

"Great language for a pastor." John muttered.

"I think Jesus would agree with me on this." Jim said. "Sam, I'm sorry. I never would have tried this if I'd known."

"It's okay." Sam said.

"So since Sam clearly doesn't want to listen to me, I'll be leaving in the morning." John said.

"No." Jim said. "You won't. I know this goes against your very nature, but you aren't calling the shots here. You're staying with Sam for two more days. If you try to leave, I'll call Bobby and Caleb to drag you back here. Now sit your ass down and listen to your son talk about his life."

Dean Winchester had seen things that most people could only dream of. But the way his father simply accepted pastor Jim's command and sat back down was something that he didn't think he would ever forget. John didn't engage Sam in any further conversation, but didn't try to discourage him either. Dean wasn't sure, but he thought, for a brief second when Sam turned his back to put his dishes in the sink, that he saw his father crack the briefest of smiles.